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Cpl. Jason Dunham - The Marine Who Jumped on a Grenade to Save Others

“The heroes are the kids who gave 100 percent; they gave their lives. The heroes are the mothers who gave up a son, who carried him for nine months, and raised him to do right, and he does right, and at eighteen, he goes to fight for his country, and he dies doing right. That's a hero.”—Edward Heffron

Cpl. Jason Dunham

In observance of Memorial Day, Jesseca Wheaton is hosting a three day blog event to honor those who died in military service, especially men and women from our respective cites/states. I chose to write about Cpl. Jason Dunham, a 22 year old Marine who jumped on a grenade to save his comrades. 

Jason Dunham was born on November 10th, 1981 (the 206th anniversary of the Marine Corps) in Scio, New York, a small town about 80 miles southeast of Buffalo. Jason's siblings looked up to him as a role model. He gave them lessons on confidence and character and was always fun to be around. One thing all his teachers remembered was his smile. His mother, Debra Dunham, learned of one of his acts of kindness after Jason died. He went out of his way to comfort a childhood friend when the other children teased her on the bus.

“All he did was sit with her on the bus,” his mother recalled. “He had a quiet way about doing the right thing.”

Cpl. Dunham graduated from high school in 2000 and entered Marine Corps Recruit Training. He was chosen to become a squad leader with Kilo Company, Third Battalion, Seventh Marine Regiment in September 2003. He was deployed to Iraq in early 2004 with the First Marine Expeditionary Force. His unit was based in Al-Karabilah. Cpl. Dunham loved kids, and wanted to play soccer with the Iraqi children. His comrades-in-arms formed a security perimeter around the group so that they could all play.

Cpl. Dunham with fellow Marines

He wanted to continue his college education and take the New York State Police entrance exam once he returned from Iraq, but April 14th, 2004 changed everything.

Cpl. Dunham and his men were on a reconnaissance mission near Husaybah, Iraq after receiving reports that insurgents had ambushed a marine convoy. The patrol, led by Cpl. Dunham, began inspecting the cars for weapons. When the squad approached a white Toyota Land Cruiser and discovered AK-47s, an insurgent jumped out and attacked him. Two other Marines ran over to subdue the attacker. During their struggle, the insurgent dropped a grenade. Cpl. Dunham immediately alerted his fellow Marines and without hesitation, threw his helmet and body over the grenade, absorbing the brunt of the explosion and saving the lives of at least two Marines. 

Cpl. Dunham was severely wounded by the grenade blast, and was evacuated.to the National Naval Medical Center in Bethesda, Maryland where he was diagnosed with brain damage. He passed away eight days later, on April 22, 2004. Shortly beforehand, Commandant of the Marine Corps presented Dunham with the Purple Heart. He was posthumously awarded the Medal of Honor for his courageous actions in Iraq.

“He will be recognized and memorialized in history,” his mother said. “He is in the company of remarkable men.”

Semper Fi


"Ain't We Got Fun?"

Two years ago today (WHAT?!) my co-author and friend, Emily Chapman, and I published our 1930's epistolary novella, Ain't We Got Fun! To celebrate, the ebook is on sale for $0.99 now through Memorial Day weekend. It's a lighthearted read that will make your weekend a little brighter. (I suggest pairing it with a cup or five of iced coffee.)

Not much money, oh but honey grab a copy for $0.99.

When you've finished the book, please leave us a review on Amazon and Goodreads. It helps authors immensely. =)


P.S. I'll be back this weekend to participate in Jesseca's Memorial Day link-up. Head over to her blog for details!

From War Opponents to Friends

I recently wrote an article for the local newspaper about two veterans, Joseph Leo and Dieter Birkholz, who served on opposite sides during WWII. Here's the article. Enjoy!

Joseph Leo (left) and Dieter Birkholz share memories of their service World War II recently at the Eldred (Pa.) World War II Museum.

Dieter Birkholz and Joseph Leo were young men fighting on opposite sides during World War II. Birkholz was a German Luftwaffe anti-aircraft crewman, while Leo flew 15 missions as a U.S. Army Air Corps B-17 waist-gunner over Nazi-occupied Europe. Now friends for over 35 years, they recently sat side-by-side at the Eldred (Pa.)WWII Museum to share their stories.

Birkholz was born in Szczecin, Germany and was only 6 years old when Adolf Hitler came to power in January 1933. He remembers having a good childhood with his young widowed mother and younger brother. At 10 years old he joined the Jungvolk and, at 14, the Hitler Youth.

“We didn’t think so much about the politics,” recalls Birkholz. “So much wasn’t known about it anyway. We weren’t really aware of what was really going on.”

At 14 and 13 years old, respectively, the Birkholz brothers entered military school in Vilshofen along the Danube river in Bavaria. “It was in a monastery and the SS had cleared out all the monks," Birkholz said. "It was like a regular military school and was run by the SS.”

Dieter Birkholz
 In 1944, Dieter was sent to Plzeň to become a Luftwaffe flak helper. Here he helped protect Skoda Works, one of the largest European industrial conglomerates. “We served all year there protecting Skoda Works. I was in fire control. Each battery had six guns. There were two batteries next to each other so we were firing twelve. Fire control is just the sights—you’re aiming. The aim data goes electronically to each gun and you have the elevation, the bearing and the distance.”

By the end of the year, Birkholz was sent to Barth, Germany for the RAD—Reich Labor Service—which required young German men and women to work six months for the government. Since it was so late in the war, the RAD had changed from manual labor to military training.

 “It was a little marching, a little organizing, rifle training, shooting, things like that," he said. "It wasn’t the true RAD anymore.”

When the Russians were advancing the following spring, Birkholz’s unit was called up to fight. Not being properly armed, they were transported farther south.

“The next three days we spent marching to exhaustion. We wound up in Schwerin, Mecklenburg. That’s when I met the first American soldier. We threw our weapons down and they were standing there with a .50-caliber machine gun mounted and were chewing gum. I’d never seen anyone chew gum before in my life. He said something to me in English and I was so embarrassed because I couldn’t understand him. He said to me, ‘How old are you?’ I was seventeen. He probably wasn’t more than nineteen.”

Birkholz remembers feeling utterly betrayed when the end of the war was announced. “I felt betrayed by my leaders. I was standing there with nothing. Everything was always portrayed as ‘we can win this.’  I was only seventeen. I knew nothing.”

While Birkholz was training to be a flak helper, Leo was manning a waist-gun thousands of feet above.

In 1944, Leo, having grown up in Oneida, was drafted at 18 and sent to Fort Dix in New Jersey for induction. His aptitude test showed he was a good typist, and they were going to keep him at Fort Dix during the war.

 “I said, ‘Sir, what am I going to tell my grandchildren? I fought the war in Fort Dix?’ Wrong thing to say. The officer looked at me and I can still feel his eyes boring right through me. He said, ‘Soldier, you're in this army to do what you’re told.’ ‘Yes, sir,’  I said, ‘but I’d prefer to fly.’”

A few nights later, Leo was marched to the train station. “We were almost to Texas before I knew where we were going—the Air Force. I think that officer did it. He saw my enthusiasm. And I ended up in the Air Force,” says Leo.

Leo was then sent to Las Vegas, Nevada for gunnery school. “That was the school to teach you how to shoot machine guns and the turrets on a plane. You had to know every position on a plane and be able to use it.”

Joseph Leo
From there Leo was sent to Florida where he was assigned to a 10-man crew, then on to Savannah, Ga., where they picked up a brand new B-17. “From Savannah we flew to Maine, refueled, and then went to Newfoundland," he said.

His crew was stationed in Eye, England from which they flew 15 missions.

“Trucks were scurrying around, pumping the last bits of gas in your tanks. Then all of a sudden the whole base comes deathly quiet. The trucks stop, everything stops and the pilot says, ‘Ok, let’s go fellas.’ So, we get in the plane. We wait. Then a green flare goes off. There’s four engines on a plane and there’s thirty-six planes all warming up at once … try and put yourself in that sound. Boy, you couldn't hear yourself think. You see everybody lined up at the tower to watch us take off. At the end of the long runway was a stone wall and a farm. When you take off you're supposed to be in the radio room with your feet braced against the wall in case it crashed on takeoff. But most of us kinda sneaked back and peeked out over.”

Leo recalls a hazardous bomb run in overcast weather. On that mission they were flying what they called, “tail-end Charlie”. When extra planes were available, they would send another plane up which flew nearly outside the formation.

“One of the other planes aborted the mission. He had to go back, engine problem or something. We took his place but we had to get all the way across the formation. So we worked our way through the planes … overcast got higher and higher and the planes got more buried in the fog. Two planes collided in front of us. Of course it happened so fast that I didn’t see it. I was looking out the side window. Well, our pilot pulled the plane up and he could have hit another plane himself. Our navigator set a course south, hoping to get down into France so that we could land there. We came out over Frankfurt, Germany and the sun was shining. They didn’t shoot at us. That meant that they probably were going to send some fighters up to get us. But they didn’t, and I don’t know why because we were dead ducks all by ourselves over Frankfurt. So, we got over into France and found a field but we didn’t have to land. They sent us back to England. They already had us reported as one of the planes that collided.”

Toward the end of the war, the Americans made a truce with Germany in which they were allowed to drop food behind German lines.

“They would let us do it but they couldn’t guarantee us that all the troops had got the message, because communications were very bad with the Germans,” says Leo. “We had to fly with our bomb bay doors open and wheels down. They told us to fly between 50 and 100 feet, and don’t try to hold a formation. They filled our bomb bay with food, and we dropped it behind the lines.”

Birkholz came to Buffalo in the 1950s, later meeting Joseph Leo when he moved to the Portville area.

“He lived around the corner,” recalls Birkholz. “My wife took our two poodles for a walk up the street and their dog came running out. So, we were introduced."

It didn’t take long for them to figure out they were former enemies. When asked if there was any tension between them, Birkholz and Leo both said no.

“Young men on both sides did what they had to do."



In the Footsteps of Sgt. Warren "Skip" Muck

Sgt. Warren "Skip" Muck was a paratrooper in Easy Company, 506th PIR, 101st Airborne (AKA Band of Brothers). I've grown very fond of this paratrooper through reading about him. Everything I've read says how people simply loved Skip Muck. Gosh, I've never even met him but I love him, too! He was just a great guy, friend, soldier, and brother. He was killed during Battle of the Bulge at age twenty-two. He grew up in Tonawanda, NY and a few weeks ago I was able to see his hometown monument! (Also, Saving Private Ryan was loosely based on the true story of the Niland brothers from Tonawanda who grew up with Skip Muck. Their monument is also in Tonawanda.)

Fun Fact: The actor who portrayed Skip in the Band of Brothers series stood in this exact spot. I have photographic evidence.

Then back in December my family went to Toccoa, GA which was home to Camp Toccoa where the 101st Airborne trained. We stopped at the Currahee Military Museum and saw the train depot where soldiers arriving to Camp Toccoa were dropped off. Talk about literally walking in their footsteps! We didn't have time to climb Currahee, but that's next on my list so there will be a part two! ;)

Here's my brother and niece outside one of the original stables from Aldbourne, England where Easy Company was billeted right before the D-Day jump! Guys, I was hyperventilating. 

Someday I'd love to visit Europe and walk in Skip's footsteps in France, Holland, and Belgium. 

Warren "Skip" Muck


They Have a Story | April Edition

It's time for the April edition of They Have a Story!

What is They Have a Story? It's a monthly historical fiction link up hosted by yours truly. Once a month I'll post a historical picture. Your job (and mine ... I'm totally doing this!) is to write a short story inspired by it. It can be as short or as long as you like. Have fun with it! Post the monthly picture, your story, and blog button on your blog, then link up. Let’s see how many different stories we can get from the same picture! 

I'm open to picture ideas for future months so if you come across one you like, send it my way! (Especially if you don't want WWII pictures every month. Ha ha ha … just kidding. Sort of.)


Happy writing!


The Musician

An excerpt from an unfinished/abandoned story:

I made a mistake about him.

The musician doesn’t want to live. In fact, he wants to die. But I wasn’t wrong in knowing I’d be free if I stayed close to him.

“Do you have someplace to go?” I ask him as the line of workers disappear.

He nods, then looks at me out of the corner of his eye. “Do you?”

I shake my head, but he says nothing. Machine gun fire rips through the air. My heart thuds against my ribs, my adrenaline soars. Mattress feathers cascade through the open apartment windows like a fresh snow. Someone screams.

“They’re still emptying this section,” I say, eyes darting for a place to hide.

I half expect him to run toward the gunfire, to give himself up, but there’s still some survival instinct left in him. He runs like mad toward an alleyway. I’m on his heels.

“Go away!” he hisses over his shoulder.

“I don’t want to die today,” I call, running harder.

He skids to a stop as we near a pile of furniture thrown from the evacuated apartments. He dives in, covering himself with tattered clothing and blankets. I slide in behind him, a baby pram hides me from view. The wheels are cracked, the casing rusted. A quilted baby blanket lays over the side, a blanket that once warmed an infant.

Where is that child now?

“I wish you’d leave me alone,” his dark eyes bore into mine as he rakes a hand through his sweaty hair.

I don’t like him. I gave him too much credit in my imaginings. I ignore his comment and stare past him instead. An SS officer marches past, his gun wedged in a woman’s back. Her long black hair lays in tangles over her shoulders. More people pass by, caught just when they thought they were free from the roundups. The train whistle screeches. The SS push their victims faster and harder.

Our breathing is loud in my ears. Suppose they can hear our desperate gulps for air? I cover my mouth until they pass. The musician is running his hands over his face.

“They’d want you to live. Your family, I mean,”  I whisper.

He lifts his head, throwing a vicious glare at me. He looks as if he’s about to say something, then changes his mind and simply shakes his head.

The musician and I are different, I can clearly see that. He doesn’t have anyone or anything to live for.

I do.

He pushes himself out of the blankets and stands up, wiping his face with the back of his hand before dashing down the alley, as if the devil was on his heels.

I swallow, watching him.

I realize the deadly truth in that single thought.



I'm currently reading In the Footsteps of the Band of Brothers by Larry Alexander and I'm really enjoying it! Here's one of my favorite parts so far:

There was also Floyd Talbert who, Guth recalled, underwent intense ribbing due to being deathly afraid of anything that crawled. "We were always putting something in his footlocker or in his bed," Forrest remembered with a chuckle. "We even put things in his ammo belt. He'd go wild."

It's amusing to think about a young, strong, brave paratrooper being deathly afraid of bugs! (Not that I blame him...)

When my sister and I can't agree on a desktop background ... 
My family and I had the opportunity to welcome home an Honor Flight mission! It was such an amazing experience! One Korean War veteran had tears in his eyes as we shook his hand: "This is a better welcome home than I had after the war." I just love what Honor Flight does for our veterans. I'd love, love, love to be a guardian someday!

I've been trying to train for a 5k between the snow and rain. Thankfully I've had a handful of beautiful days to run! Next stop, Currahee! 3 miles up, 3 miles down! (I'm gonna die.)

Writing-wise, I'm working on an article to submit to history magazines. Also, an article I wrote about two WWII veterans was published in our local paper! I'm doing a bit of research for a novel idea I have, and I need to start preparing for two books talks I have coming up!

Here's a sneak peek from my research:

Ratsy: A blend of rat and Nazi.

Khaki-Whacky: A woman overly fond of men in uniform. 

Royal Order of Whale Bangers: An "exclusive" club open only to airmen who have mistakenly dropped depth charges on whales, supposing them to be enemy submarines.

And then I realized I had a whale on my research notebook. Hey, it's not my fault that whales and submarines look so alike. 

What are you currently reading/writing/researching?